


a secret you and me house

by glissandos



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Confessions, Cute, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluffy, Growing Up, Kissing, Light Angst, Lots of that, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, but mostly just a lot of fluff, soft and sweet, some awkwardness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glissandos/pseuds/glissandos
Summary: Jisung confesses to his best friend late at night in their childhood tree house.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 39
Kudos: 278





	a secret you and me house

**(( present, 50 tree rings ))**

Summer vacation. A break. It means that after his first year of college Jisung finally gets to come back home, and for once not have to worry about staying up studying for exams or rushing to finish assignments or wonder whether or not he’ll even sleep at all that night. 

He flops facedown on his old bed and inhales into his pillow. It smells like detergent, and he’s grateful that his parents washed his covers and pillowcase before he came back for the summer. A thin blanket is neatly folded up on the corner of the mattress—his mom’s doing.

Jisung eventually drags himself back up into a sitting position, back against the wall and legs splayed out over the bed. That’s when he notices that his parents must have also opened his window—a lazy summer breeze filters in and lightly tickles his hair. The blinds are pulled to the side too to let the sunlight in, and Jisung looks into the backyard, eyes skimming across yellowing grass that probably needs to be watered. The peach tree is laden with dark yellow fruit that will soon ripen, and Jisung knows they’ll need to pick the peaches soon or the sneaky birds and squirrels will steal them first. He spots a few new purple flowers alongside the strawberry garden by the fence; his parents must have tried planting them while he was gone. While red strawberries peek through beneath the leaves, the purple flowers droop a bit under the sun, like they’re approaching the end of their lifetime. 

In the far right corner of their backyard sits the oak tree. It’s not super old or gnarly, when you compare it to the lifespans of other timeless oak trees, but has branches that stretch out into the neighbors’ yards. The grass under its shade is still luscious green, and it dances in waves in the summer breeze. 

Jisung finally allows his eyes to trail up the trunk of the tree, landing on the carefully arranged and constructed planks of wood. The tree house. No, _their_ tree house. _Jisung and Minho’s_ tree house. 

As it always does, Jisung’s mind inevitably wanders to Minho.

**(( 40.5 tree rings ))**

“Minho, I want a tree house!” Jisung skips down the sidewalk excitedly, Minho trailing behind. His backpack flops against his back but it’s light anyway—just his pencil bag, an empty thermos, and a couple notebooks. 

“Why? Wanna reunite with your squirrel friends?” Minho asks, snickering as Jisung reaches up to protect his cheeks instinctively. He doesn’t really mean any harm by the words, Jisung knows—Minho even said that he thinks Jisung’s cheeks are cute, even if the other kids will make fun of him for it. 

Sometimes, Jisung still finds it hard to believe that _Minho_ , a super cool sixth-grader, would even befriend a fourth-grader like him. (Elementary school drills in the idea of all sixth-graders being scary preteens that like to bully the younger students during recess. Really, it’s just a rumor, and Jisung doesn’t realize Hyunjin is messing with him until almost months later when they play tag on the blacktop and Hyunjin brings a new friend who is a year older than them. To be fair, Changbin looks scary enough to play the part. His loud personality, though, quickly indicates that he’s not scary at all.)

“My teacher read us a poem today, by a guy named Shel Silver….Silver-something,” Jisung exclaims, trailing off when he can’t remember the poet’s name. “It was about a tree house. And then I looked up pictures of tree houses on the school computer and some are really cool! There was one photo where somebody built an entire playground in the forest,” Jisung breathes. 

Minho laughs loudly as he catches up to Jisung. “Tree houses _are_ cool, but who’s going to build your tree house? Where are you going to buy the supplies? And no way it’s gonna end up as cool as the internet tree houses,” he says. 

“Well, _I_ can try. _I’ll_ build it myself in that big tree in our backyard!” Jisung proclaims. “I don’t know how to build one, though…” The thought puts nine-year-old Jisung on the verge of tears.

Minho laughs again, linking their hands together. “If you ever figure it out I’ll help build it with you,” he declares. “Even though both we’d probably make a mess and our parents would kill us.”

Jisung stops sniffing. “Really?”

“Really!” Minho smiles brightly, revealing bright teeth. Jisung’s envious; his adult teeth are still filling in and the gaps look really funny when he smiles at himself in the mirror.

“Pinky promise?” Jisung asks, just to be sure. 

“Pinky promise,” Minho agrees, bringing their linked hands up and making a show of twining their pinkies together. Neither of them know just what that promise will soon entail.

**(( 40 tree rings ))**

_Ding-dong._ Jisung can hear the faint ring inside the house after he presses the doorbell, and he anxiously waits for someone to come to the door. From what his mom told him, these neighbors moved in only a few weeks ago. She went to deliver them a pie last week, baked warm and fresh and sweet from peaches in their backyard.

Jisung hadn’t come with her then. And now here he is already making a bad first impression. 

Hyunjin isn’t with him either, because in Hyunjin’s words, “You were the one who did it!” So Jisung stuck his tongue out at his friend and told him that if _Hyunjin_ ever threw the ball over the fence then Jisung would temporarily abandon _him_. Hyunjin just stuck his tongue out in return. 

The door opens, and a woman that looks maybe the same age as Jisung’s mom opens the door. “Hello, what can I do for you?” she asks, in the kind of way that nice people talk to kids that probably sell cookies or something. Jisung’s not that young anymore, though, he just turned nine and is only a year away from double digits! (and he’s not a boy scout selling cookies). 

“Uhhh, hello!” Jisung squeaks out, and everything else spills out of his mouth. “My name’s Jisung and I live in the house behind you and I was playing catch with my friend but I accidentally threw the ball into your yard.”

“Oh, that’s no problem!” the woman assures him with a smile, and Jisung sags, relieved. “Minho!” she calls over her shoulder into the house. “My son Minho’s around your age, I’ll have him retrieve it for you.”

“Okay!” Jisung replies, curious to see who this Minho is. And if he’s Jisung’s age, hopefully he can make a new friend. 

Jisung hears footsteps and a kid that’s a bit taller hops down the stairs. “Why’d you call me down, I was—” the boy pauses as he sees Jisung standing outside the door. “Hello,” he says, demeanor going from irritated to polite immediately. 

Jisung gapes because this boy is really really pretty. He’s just wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but Jisung is drawn to the way his mouth quirks up shyly in a really nice smile. And his voice is really nice too, not at all with any flamboyant edge like Hyunjin’s. Suddenly, Jisung _really_ wants to befriend him.

“Hi Minho. I’m Jisung, your neighbor!” Jisung says as enthusiastically as he can. There’s a second of silence where Minho hesitates to respond.

“He threw a ball into our yard,” Minho’s mom tells Minho. “Could you get it?”

“It’s bright blue and about this big,” Jisung offers, curving his fingertips and using his hands to estimate the size.

“Oh, okay. Do you want me to bring it back or just throw it back into your yard?” Minho asks. 

“Um, um…” Jisung pauses for a moment. He had just assumed that he’d bring the ball back but now that Minho’s brought it up, throwing it over would be just as easy. _And maybe it’ll land on Hyunjin’s head,_ he thinks, victoriously. “You can throw it back into my yard, thanks!” Jisung decides, hoping he doesn’t sound too devious as he replies. 

“‘Kay, no problem,” Minho slips back out of sight and Jisung hovers on the doorstep, unsure if he should linger there and confirm whether or not the ball’s been returned. Minho’s mom smiles knowingly at him and asks him how old he is, and after Jisung tells her he learns that Minho’s two years older, and he’ll be starting sixth grade at the same school in the coming weeks, which is an exciting thought.

Minho returns a minute later and offers Jisung a cute thumbs up. “Your ball should be back in your yard, safe and sound!” he reassures Jisung, and Jisung thanks both him and his mom profusely. “Thank you! Maybe I’ll see you again sometime?”

“I actually have your mother’s phone number from when she stopped by a while back. Maybe we could arrange a playdate for your two,” Minho’s mom tells him, laughing. 

“Yes!” Jisung responds eagerly, pumping his fist. “That is, if Minho’s okay too?” he quickly glances at where Minho’s peering out from behind his mom in the doorway. 

Minho offers a hesitant smile. “Sure?” 

But when Jisung’s face lights up Minho’s smile finally genuinely brightens, and Jisung takes it as a good sign, a skip in his step as he heads back home.

**(( present ))**

It’s at the supermarket when Jisung unexpectedly runs into Minho. (Or maybe expectedly. It was bound to happen at some point.) He’s looking for ice cream because he had forgotten how hot it could get back home during the summer, and their air-conditioner isn’t exactly working so he needs lots of cold food to help him survive the stuffiness. 

“Jisung?” 

_Ah, shit._ Jisung recognizes the voice before he even turns around, hand still halfway wedged between the ice cream containers and the open freezer door, which is rapidly frosting over. 

“Hey. I wasn’t sure if that was you,” Minho chuckles. “Your hair isn’t dyed blond anymore.”

Right. Before going off to college, Jisung and Hyunjin had decided to dye their hair blond together, but after Jisung let his roots grow out too long and got too lazy to redye, he opted for a haircut instead, and the only evidence he ever dyed his hair is in the lighter tips of a few longer strands. 

“Yeah, I just let it grow out,” Jisung replies. “How are you doing? I didn’t expect to run in to you around here,” he says, then backtracks, because that sounds like he doesn’t _want_ to see Minho. “I mean, the last couple summers you got jobs close to your college, right? So I just assumed you’d do the same this summer too.” _Awkward._

Minho mulls over his words as Jisung picks a container of neapolitan ice cream out of the aisle because he can’t decide whether he wants strawberry, vanilla, or chocolate more. “Actually, I got a job back home this time,” Minho says. “You know the dance studio a few blocks down? I’ll be teaching some younger kids how to dance.”

“Oh.” Jisung racks his brain for a proper reply. God, the atmosphere is so weird and unnatural. It makes him want to run home and wish he never ran into Minho at all. But if Minho’s back for the summer, he would have eventually known anyway. They’re still back-to-back neighbors, after all.

“So… why are you here?” Great. Of course Minho’s here to buy groceries, it’s a supermarket. 

Minho laughs, like he knows the question is the product of Jisung’s nervousness. The sound that escapes his mouth is still fluty and soft, just the same as when Jisung last heard it… two years ago, maybe? Probably closer to three. The last time they met in person was before Minho went off to university, and they had sat together in the tree house and Jisung had whined about how he was going to miss Minho and Minho had reassured him _it was going to be fine_ and that they still had the internet to communicate.

It didn’t exactly turn out fine. They had texted and video called quite a bit at first, but then the video calling sort of stopped. Eventually the texts did too, save for polite messages every now and then making small talk or wishing Jisung a happy birthday. 

But Minho’s laughter at least breaks some of the tension. “Guess I could ask the same for you,” he replies, voice tinged with some fondness that Jisung hasn’t heard in years and… and… Jisung does not want to dwell on that. 

“Well, you know how it is at my house. The AC is indefinitely broken and it’s summer so I had to get some ice cream, my savior,” Jisung explains anyway, cradling the container to his chest. Maybe he holds it close for too long, though, because the chilliness breaches his shirt and shoots up his spine and Jisung almost drops the container in his haste to jerk it away. 

Minho stifles a giggle. Though the air is still a bit tense, in some ways their relationship is the same as ever. Jisung should be fine with this. He _should_ be. But he always wants more. Even now, he wants to brush down the strand of hair that’s sticking up aloofly on Minho’s head from the humidity, wants to fix the sleeves of Minho’s t-shirt so they aren’t crookedly folded up, wants to reach out and grab Minho’s hand and interlock their fingers, wants to… kiss him. The last one he’s wanted to do for such a long time now. 

So many years later, and Jisung is still in love with his best friend. Standing there, watching Minho step closer, Jisung asks himself, is _it really too late?_

Minho interrupts his reverie. “Coincidentally, I’m getting ice cream too.” 

Before he knows it, Minho steps in next to him, pulling a container of his favorite strawberry ice cream out of the freezer. Jisung wants to inch away at the closeness, watching as Minho deposits the container in his basket. He’s right there, right _here_ —not behind a screen or as a faceless sender of text messages. Maybe the ice cream aisle is getting to him; Jisung feels as if his throat is frozen up because he can’t speak up. 

“Hey.” Minho says again, turning to face him. Up close, his soft voice makes the entire situation seem so much more _real._ “I’m glad I ran into you, actually.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the strands even more, and shifts on his feet uncomfortably. “I… I just…” Minho sighs. “I just wanted to tell you that I missed you,” Minho slowly admits, refusing to make eye contact with Jisung as he says the words. 

Something blooms in Jisung’s chest, stronger than ever, wrapping itself around his heart and thrumming to his quickening pulse. It’s a familiar feeling Jisung used to push down so often, resurfacing in its full glory.

Minho takes a tiny step back, and Jisung knows he has to do something. “Me too,” he honestly replies—almost whispers it back—and Minho finally allows their eyes to meet. Jisung stares into Minho’s dark entrancing eyes and long curling eyelashes and again thinks of _their_ tree house, a structure neither of them have dared to step foot in for so long. There are probably dead leaves cluttered from the seasons and ants running all over and other tree debris piling up inside from it practically being abandoned by this point. But it’s the one thing that definitely holds a special place in both of their hearts, the one thing he can’t dissociate from the idea of _them._

Jisung takes a deep breath, his urging heartbeat resounding in his head, and opens his mouth again to the rhythm of it. “Meet me in the tree house tonight?”

**(( 40.5 tree rings ))**

“My dad said yes!!!!!” Jisung practically tackles Minho when he sees him after school, pouncing on his shoulders and bouncing up and down. 

“Yes to what?” Minho looks a bit puzzled, but mostly amused, used to Jisung’s antics by now.

“I kept asking him whether or not we could build a tree house and he finally said yes! We’re gonna go to the hardware store this weekend and get some wood and then he said he’ll saw it into pieces that are the right size and we can nail it into the tree and everything! You know that big tree in the corner of my backyard?” 

“Oh, is it the tree that kinda reaches into my backyard too?” Minho asks.

“Yes!” Jisung prances along the sidewalk, giddy. “We can have ladders going up from both of our sides and then that way we could easily have playdates too since we could just use the tree instead of walking around the block to get to each other’s houses!” 

Minho actually looks enlightened at this idea. “That _is_ cool,” he muses. 

“Right?? So are you free on Sunday? You can come over and my dad said he’ll do the dangerous stuff for us,” Jisung reassures. 

“What did I tell you before? I’m not gonna back out of my promise,” Minho says, pointing to his pinky finger in a conspiratory manner. “And besides, it’ll definitely be fun!”

“Yay!” Jisung cheers. Minho’s grin mirrors his own.

So on Sunday they end up peering over the edge of the table with safety glasses a bit too big for their faces as Jisung’s dad saws the long planks of wood into smaller segments. There’s a lot more wood that Jisung would have imagined, and his dad also has to figure out the hard task of getting the base platform firmly settled and nailed into supports eight feet off the ground so that it’s sturdy enough around the oak tree.

After the platform is done, they work together to carefully nail two matching wooden ladders and attach them from the ground to opposite sides of the platform. Minho has to go back into his backyard so he can attach his ladder to the treehouse by leaning it against his side of the fence. 

Finally they get to climb onto the platform, and Jisung and Minho take it upon themselves to hammer the walls together, though they’re less like walls and more like wooden railings spaced around the platform so they won’t accidentally fall off. Repeated hammering is a hard task that requires arm strength the kids don’t really have—not to mention eleven-year-old Minho isn’t very precise and nine-year-old-Jisung is even less so. But they’re both determined to do it all themselves (while Jisung’s dad watches warily on the side), and the end product is that the rail support slabs end up a bit crooked and unevenly spaced out and the railings on each side of the platform aren’t exactly resting at the same height, but Jisung is proud of their work anyway. 

They could put a tarp as a makeshift roof, but Minho decides he wants to be able to look up into the tree and glimpse the sky even further beyond it, and Jisung easily agrees, though his dad points out that they’ll get wet if it ever rains. Minho says that the oak tree will shelter them with its canopy instead. So in the end the tree house turns out looking more like a tree fort, but it still looks cool nonetheless. 

After an exhausting day of hammering nails into wood, Jisung and Minho excitedly hole themselves up in the finished tree house, though not after multiple trips to and from their rooms to bring in items and toys to decorate the inside of the platform. A jigsaw puzzle lies half-completed when Minho stands up to rest his elbows on the railing and peeks outside. Jisung does the same, only to get an earful of teasing from Minho because Jisung has to tiptoe to make his elbows reach the railing. 

“I feel like the king of the neighborhood,” Jisung declares, looking out into the distance where the sun is beginning to set against the hills. 

“That can’t be true, because _I’m_ the king,” Minho corrects him sternly. 

“Okay, well, then we’ll both be kings,” Jisung continues, unperturbed. Minho beams at his solution.

They busy themselves contentedly off the ground and only when Minho’s parents tempt them with dinner do they climb back down. 

**(( 41 tree rings ))**

When Minho enters junior high, he joins the dance team, and even though the junior high is really close to their elementary school Jisung starts seeing a lot less of him. 

Still, they have their freshly built tree house—less than a year old. Every once in a while, Jisung will bring his homework up into the shelter of the tree, listening to the occasional bird call and basking in milder sunlight that filters through the leaves and the cool autumn wind. 

Sometimes, Minho will spot him inside the tree house and he’ll bring up homework too, and they’ll talk and finish homework and then get distracted when Jisung brings up a new comic series or when he asks Minho what junior high is like.

More often than not, though, Jisung does his homework alone. He misses that from last year, before Minho started staying after school to work with his friends on some dance for some upcoming show or performance. Never has their two year age gap felt so… big. But even though he’s still objectively a kid, Jisung’s mature enough to know not to prod Minho about it. Besides, they still see each other often enough, so Jisung can’t complain anyway. 

He starts inviting Hyunjin over more often again, and is reluctant to share the tree house at first, but Hyunjin is curious and insists on seeing what all the fuss is about. Hyunjin also introduces him to another friend, Seungmin, and one day they have fun raking up all the leaves from the oak tree and jumping into hefty piles of it. It really is fun, and momentarily, Jisung stops wishing that Minho was the same age as him. 

**(( present ))**

After Jisung gets back home, he puts the ice cream in the freezer so it can regain some of its shape and heads outside, coming to a stop in front of the oak tree. The boards that form a ladder on his side are a bit darker and worn since he last saw them, but they look sturdy enough. Jisung puts a foot down onto the first step and forces his weight into it, testing the strength. The board only wobbles slightly, so Jisung grabs his small broom and climbs the rest of the way up and steps onto the platform for the first time in a long time. 

There are a lot of dead leaf fragments, but the ants haven’t overrun the place, maybe because they prefer live wood better. Jisung uses his broom to brush leaves off the platform until he’s satisfied. Distantly, the thought occurs to Jisung that, if Minho were now home too, he might be able to see Jisung shifting around up here. But the tree’s canopy is also a bit larger and a bit lower, so it seems safe enough. And Jisung doesn’t really care. He’s just tidying up. 

Jisung hops down and comes back up a few minutes later with an old picnic blanket that he rolls over the floor of the platform. It hangs over the edges a bit, but that’s fine. Jisung lies down on the blanket and stares up at the holes of sky between empty patches of leaves. A small gust of wind causes the blanket to fly up a bit at its ends, tugging against his feet.

He thinks. Sits in this platform teeming with nostalgia and thinks so much that his heart feels like it’s going to explode. But Jisung really wants to do this. Even if so much time has passed since they last talked properly, Jisung wants Minho to know how he feels. Maybe a year of college has made him feel more mature, or maybe it’s just been a secret that’s long overdue. 

So he crosses his fingers, makes a wish, places a rock down on the blanket so it doesn’t blow away, and leaves the tree house determined. He’ll do it tonight. 

**(( 45.5 tree rings ))**

“Uh.” Jisung stands on the doorstep as Minho quirks an eyebrow up at him. The situation gives Jisung a striking sense of deja vu, except it’s maybe five and a half years later. And Minho’s at the door, rather than his mom. Jisung kind of wants to just stare at Minho’s fluffy hair and pretty eyes that he hasn’t seen in so long, but he reminds himself that now is not the time.

“Dude, this is so embarrassing,” Jisung groans, covering his face with one hand. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

Minho leans against the doorway. “Try me.”

“Okay, so. Hyunjin and I were digging around in the garage looking for my old karaoke machine. But then we came across—okay, just listen to me here. Hyunjin found that old blue ball, you remember, the one that I threw into your yard that one time, and was like, ‘wanna toss this around a few times?’ We were procrastinating that chemistry lab report so naturally I said yes. And—surprise—I somehow throw the ball into your yard.”

Minho regards him silently during Jisung’s rant. Jisung probably would too, if he were Minho. They haven’t talked in weeks, and now Jisung shows up at his doorstep recreating a scene like one of the universe’s cruel pranks. His face is probably turning red now, too, because the situation is admittedly a little embarrassing and he’s rambling. 

Jisung didn’t even have to go ask for the ball back. But… he kind of just wanted to see Minho and hear his voice. So it was a good excuse, if nothing else. 

“I’ll throw it back into the yard,” Minho finally says, and then he’s turning around and moving down the hallway and Jisung wishes he had another excuse so he could stay longer.

When he comes back, Jisung’s collected himself a bit more, ready to thank Minho and walk back home and be done with it. But maybe Minho feels similarly, that he needs to say _something_ , anything, to clear this tension in the air. It’s not even tension really, just the kind of awkwardness that results when you talk to your used-to-be-best-friend who’s now starting to slip away. 

And Jisung gets it. He really does. He was really excited going into ninth grade because _finally_ he and Minho would be going to the same school again. But that was before it sunk in that this is Minho’s junior year of high school, and he needs to focus and study and get good grades for college. And he’s really involved with his dance group at school, choreographing and all that. So Jisung gets that Minho didn’t really consciously choose to let Jisung slip out of his life. It just happened. But Jisung can’t help but feel sad sometimes, like if he did _something_ differently things maybe wouldn’t have ended up this way.

“You know, you didn’t have to walk all the way here just for that ball,” Minho comments. “Probably could have just gone up the tree house and into my yard and taken the ball and sneaked back and nobody would have seen you.” His mouth quivers slightly, a smile peeking up at the corners, like he’s imagining Jisung doing just that. 

“That would make me feel like I’m a criminal or something,” Jisung pouts. “This feels like the correct way to go about it.” _And I don’t think we have that level of familiarity with each other anymore for me to just jump down from the tree house and go rummaging around in your backyard._

“Wow, look at you, Han Jisung. A perfect law-abiding student,” Minho mocks him. 

Jisung flushes. “Says you! Accomplice and partner in crime!” He is _not_ thinking about that one time two summers ago when they sneaked into the community pool after hours and almost got caught because Jisung slipped on a puddle of water on the cement as they were making their escape.

Evidently, Minho is also _not_ thinking about that. He laughs at Jisung’s grimace. “It’s okay. I get that sometimes you just feel more like following the law than others. And, uh,” Minho reaches up to rub the back of his neck, “It was nice having you stop by. Maybe sometime we should hang out again, okay?”

“Really? I don’t want to pressure you if you don’t have the time, though,” Jisung frowns worriedly.

“I know, but… I feel bad about not being able to as much these days, so we definitely should,” Minho persists. “I really am sorry.” 

Jisung knows that. That’s why _Jisung_ feels so bad about asking Minho to do things and go places with him. And no matter what either of them say, it’s just not the same as it was before. Something’s different. There’s that awkwardness hanging around in the air. But Minho’s giving him the soulful eyes, and Jisung can’t refuse. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to indulge himself, at least a little. 

“Okay, maybe this weekend then? I heard there’s a new noodle place opening up by the bowling alley. We could try it.”

Minho’s unable to resist a bit of teasing. “Alright, as long as you don’t slurp the noodles up like a vacuum,” he says, and Jisung starts flushing again, but before he can respond, Minho continues. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I’ll see you then.” His face softens, but there’s something in Minho’s eyes that’s unreadable as he closes the door. Jisung used to know what Minho was feeling from his expression, but he can’t tell what anything means anymore, and it would be weird to ask. 

Despite that, Jisung is now someone who knows that he’s going to meet up with his friend after weeks of radio silence, and he leaves feeling a little lighter this time, like a helium balloon that’s been relieved of its strenuous tether to the ground.

**(( present ))**

Jisung stares at the contact name on his phone. **neighbor that’s only a little cool,** it reads, and the last message sent was eight months ago—Minho replying “thank you!!” to Jisung wishing him a happy birthday. Jisung clicks open the chat and taps the black space where it says “ _text message,”_ watching the blinking cursor appear. Stares more at the blinking cursor with a bated breath for a solid minute. 

Ah, fuck it. He’ll break the silence. He kind of needs to, anyway.

**squirrel in the tree house**

hello<

uh, i realized from when we met earlier<

that i didn’t really clarify a time for meeting up tonight<

in the tree house<

so if you see this<

let’s be there 8:30, the sun starts setting then!<

Jisung throws the phone down and picks it back up a moment later when it dings with the telltale notification of a text received. 

**neighbor that’s only a little cool**

>Haha hi Jisung. 

>Didn’t think about that either, but it works for me

>See you then, I’m excited!

Jisung thinks _yolo_ again, and types a response. 

**squirrel in the tree house**

me too!<

sayyyy<

it’s summer so it obviously won’t rain tonight<

so if you’re down then bring a pillow and blanket too<

treehouse sleepover like the good ole days?<

**neighbor that’s only a little cool**

>Ooh I like the sound of that

>I will!

**squirrel in the tree house**

great cya later!!!!!<

Maybe it’s one too many exclamation points but Jisung doesn’t care. He takes another deep breath and tells himself that if all goes well tonight then asking to extend it to a sleepover will definitely be worth it. 

**(( 43 tree rings ))**

When Minho starts high school, Jisung starts junior high. But Minho makes it a point to involve Jisung more, at least at first. The tree house starts seeing more visits during Minho’s freshman year, though they again quickly dwindle down.

One day, Jisung and Minho are holed up on the platform, both lying with their backs against the (probably) dirty planks of wood. Jisung is really tired because he couldn’t fall asleep last night, but now he feels like he’s on the verge of drifting off, listening to Minho ramble about some dance performance they have that’s coming up soon and what they’re doing in practice. 

Somehow, Jisung’s head ends up in Minho’s lap and it gets harder and harder for him to resist the idea of sleep, Minho’s voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber. _Sorry, Minho,_ Jisung thinks, before he dozes off and dreams that he finds a treasure chest full of glittering jewels, except a dragon arrives and sweeps them all away before he can even touch any of them.

When Jisung first comes to, he feels fingers carding through his hair in a soothing manner, and just lies there for a while longer, revelling in it. He gradually blinks his eyes open, glances upward, and notices that Minho is staring back down at him with his soft brown eyes. When he realizes that Jisung is awake, Minho blinks startledly and glances away, and the tips of his ears turn a deep pinkish red. 

Jisung snickers but can’t shake away the strange feeling that starts taking root in his chest. Neither of them bring up the moment again afterward. 

**(( present ))**

Jisung closes the sliding door behind him and steps into his backyard again that evening at exactly 8:26 p.m., a pillow and blanket bundled up in his arms. He’s also wearing his light blue PJs because if he’s going to confess, if his heart is going to go into overdrive, the least he can do is make the rest of himself as relaxed and comfortable as possible. 

The sun is already close to the horizon as Jisung clumsily makes his way up the ladder up the tree house, and it casts the wood in a burnt orange glow. Jisung carefully places his feet down on each step and tries not to let the blanket he’s carrying push him off in the process.

Okay, it’s really only a few steps and the tree house itself isn’t that far from the ground if he _were_ to fall, but Jisung doesn’t particularly like thinking about heights in the dwindling dark.

“Hey,” Minho says, sticking his face out the top. Jisung shrieks and almost falls back.

“Minho! Don’t just do that, what if I fell off!” Jisung indignantly pulls himself up the last rung and onto the wooden platform, heart already racing from the shock and he hasn’t even said anything self-incriminating yet. He hopes he’s imagining the slight tremor in the plank beneath him. It’s been a while since the house had to support the weight of two people.

“Even now, your reactions to surprises are funny,” Minho admits, giggling. He smooths out the picnic blanket that Jisung had placed inside earlier, moving the rock that had been keeping it down to the side. “You cleaned this place up nicely, too. Thanks for doing that.”

“Figured I should, it’s been a long time,” Jisung says, placing his warm bundle next to Minho’s rolled-up blanket at the end of the platform. Jisung kicks off his sandals, one of which slips under the boards which form the walls and flops with a soft thump on the grass below. 

“You’ll have fun climbing back down in one sandaled and one bare foot,” Minho remarks, amusement clear in his voice. Jisung grumbles, leaning his back against the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder with Minho. He shoves Minho half-heartedly, and they both break into laughter. 

It’s nice. This is nice. Like they hadn’t spent so long apart, like Jisung time-traveled back into the past where he and Minho were best friends. Their current banter picks off where they left, and somehow the awkwardness from their previous encounters has disappeared. 

Jisung does a double-take, has a fleeting thought. Wonders if he should risk their friendship over his feelings. 

**(( 44 tree rings ))**

One day during the summer after Jisung finished seventh grade, he and Minho sneak out. Technically it’s not really sneaking out, but Jisung tells his mom that he’s going to Minho’s house and Minho tells his mom that he’s going to Jisung’s house. They’re actually going to the community pool. 

In the summer, the pool gets really crowded and there’s lots of screaming toddlers running around outside the pool area. On any given day, you can probably find someone of any age just hanging out there; a few elderly people reading books, mothers chatting as their children splash water everywhere, and other parents trying to teach their babies to swim for the first time. 

If you want to have a water fight in a crowded space maybe it’s okay. But for actually swimming and just having an overall good time, in the summer, the busy pool isn’t it. 

So Minho and Jisung sneak out right as the pool is closing. It’s around sunset, and as the guy at the entrance is locking up as they arrive. Minho drags Jisung down with him as they duck behind a nearby tree.

“Do you think there’s a chance he might come back and double check anything right after he leaves?” Jisung whispers. “Or what if he forgets something and comes back for it?”

“Nah,” Minho says, snickering. “I stalked this place out last night too and this guy seems like the type of person who just wants to go home after dealing with screaming children for an entire day.”

The guy finishes locking up and drives away. Jisung and Minho scale the chain-link fence, which isn’t too tall and only requires Jisung to use a decent amount of arm strength. Then they’re hopping back down on the other side. Jisung gives Minho a high-five. 

The pool cover is an automatic one, so Jisung finds the switch and watches as the cover retracts back into the side of the pool. They strip off their shirts and jump in, and Jisung splashes Minho once he resurfaces. That earns him a splash back and results in lots more splash attacks until Jisung has too much chlorinated water in his eyes and can’t see. Then they put on goggles and race underwater from one end of the pool to another. 

It’s when Minho glances up once after a particularly competitive game of seeing who can squirt water the fastest by squeezing their hands together that he sees the car pulling up. 

“No way,” Minho breathes, stopping midway through his water attack. 

“What?” Jisung asks. 

“Just our luck, I think the guy _did_ forget something because that is his car and he’s going to come out any minute hurry hurry _hurry gogogogogo get out,”_ Minho almost yells at him and they scramble out of the pool, shoving their feet into sandals and throwing their shirts on. Despite their basically illicit acts, the thought occurs to Jisung to put the pool cover back over, so he runs over and flips the switch back. 

Minho is already starting up the back fence when Jisung comes frantically flailing behind him, only Jisung slips on a wet puddle in the process. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks, _this is it. I’m going to juvenile detention because I slipped on a puddle that I probably created from splashing water everywhere._

Somehow, Jisung gets off the ground and is jumping down from the fence on the other side when the employee spots them. 

“Hey! You’re not allowed to be here after hours!” Jisung and Minho hear a voice calling after them but it’s too late because they’re running down a back shortcut in between houses and dart behind a cluster of particularly thick bushes where the guy definitely won’t be able to find them. 

And he gives up pretty easily anyway, maybe because he really only had come back with the intention of retrieving a forgotten belonging, not running after two mischievous students. Minutes later they hear his car’s engine starting and eventually it zooms off into the distance. 

They exhale simultaneous sighs of relief, and Jisung sags into Minho’s arms as they flop into the grass by the bushes. Minho’s shirt is kind of damp and Jisung just knows his wet hair is ticking Minho’s chin. 

Minho giggles first. Before they know it, they’re laughing breathlessly on the ground, Jisung curling into Minho and feeling Minho’s chest humming with laughter beneath him. Their hearts are still racing, and Jisung thinks that even though they didn’t get to use the pool as much as they planned that they’ll now have this matching unique memory stored away. 

“Wanna try that again tomorrow and hope the employee doesn’t come back twice in a row?” Minho asks. 

Jisung glows, and nods fervently. 

For the record, they sneak into the pool five more times that summer. They don’t get caught again.

**(( present ))**

_Don’t think that,_ Jisung resolutely tells himself. The oak tree is older and wiser, and so is he. He’s been dragging his toes in the ground for so long. Regardless of what he says, Minho will always be understanding. A confession now seems so sudden, but Jisung knows that Minho will respect his words, even if he doesn’t reciprocate. 

Besides, this is technically a sleepover under the stars, right? In concept, it sounds pretty romantic. Minho would agree, Jisung thinks. 

Minho, who reflects not the stars in his eyes but instead all the memories he and Jisung shared growing up—loud playdates and games of tag in their backyards to Jisung watching Minho’s dance performances as Minho listened to his songs to sneaking around during the boring summer days to Jisung being there for Minho and Minho being there for Jisung, even if only with a few words of good-luck.

Minho, who chooses now to lean his head against Jisung’s shoulder and pulls up his blanket over both of their legs. “Missed you, missed our tree house,” he says, again. Jisung tilts his head against Minho’s in acknowledgment. 

“Me too,” he exhales, even though he’d already said it at the supermarket. Now it feels a thousand times more intimate, inside the same tree house under the same stars that shined on them almost ten years ago when they first met. 

For a while, it’s just silence. The crickets that dispersed themselves in the shelter of thick grass and bushes chirp ceaselessly, setting the beat for nature’s music. The faint nighttime breeze slips through the tree house in faint whooshes, murmuring a quiet melody. In the distance, an owl emits a soft series of low hoots, falls quiet, and then coos out again. 

“Minho,” Jisung says the name like his own coveted secret. “I have something to tell you.”

**(( 47 tree rings ))**

Minho graduates high school, and Jisung greets him after the ceremony with a bouquet of flowers—pink lilies and colorful daisies. It had actually been the first time Jisung had ever stepped foot inside a flower shop, and he had just gone with whatever the florist had suggested. 

But the real treat is hidden isn’t in the flowers themselves. He had sort of bought them as an ironic contrast—Jisung had dug up as many cringey old photos of Minho as he could find and printed them as a massive collage, then wrapped the bouquet with it. 

As Jisung guesses, Minho is more amused and endeared by Jisung’s gift than angry at Jisung for compiling dozens of old photos, and Jisung almost cries into Minho’s graduation gown because it’s really hitting him now that Minho’s going to college cities away and they probably won’t physically see each other after the end of this summer for a long time. 

Minho pats his back comfortingly as Jisung sobs into his shoulder and soaks in his warmth, and eventually Jisung straightens himself back up and tells himself to get it together. 

“There’s still the rest of summer,” Minho points out, though his eyes look just a tad watery too.

“I know, but—” Jisung clenches his fists in his sides and scrunches his eyes shut and darts up and plants a soft kiss on Minho’s cheek. “For good luck in the future,” he says, looking anywhere but at Minho. 

Minho’s face blooms a shade of light pink and he grabs Jisung’s hand, uncurling his clenched fingers and intertwining them with his own. “Stop being so sappy,” he complains. 

“I’ll do what I want,” Jisung says stubbornly, and then he’s sniffing back tears again. 

“Hey, let’s go to the pool tonight,” Minho suggests.

“Does the first thing you want to do after graduating really have to be illegally sneaking into the community pool?” Jisung jokes. 

“If I get to do it with you, yes,” Minho flashes him a dazzling smile that makes him look prettier than any of the flowers Jisung gave him. 

Jisung hides his heart that is teeming with so many feelings behind a look of mock-disgust. “Stop being so sappy,” he retorts. 

“I’ll do what I want,” Minho throws back.

**(( present ))**

“Anything,” Minho mumbles sleepily, head still weighing on Jisung’s shoulders. But Jisung has to see Minho’s reaction when he spills it. The truth.

Jisung carefully moves to the side enough to make Minho sit up properly and watch him curiously, but he soon settles against the corner of the tree house instead, a bit drowsily. Even though nighttime during the summer is fairly warm, Jisung still misses the heat of Minho’s presence anyway. But he has to do it like this. 

Jisung draws his knees up to his chest under the blanket. Shifts around so he’s facing Minho. Forces himself to make eye contact even when most of the tree house and Minho are just shadows now. Feels his heart hammering faster than any of the crickets hidden in the grass, licks his lips, wipes his palms on his pajamas, hopes he sounds confident enough. 

The waxing moon shines through the oak tree’s leafy canopy, basking Minho’s face in an almost ethereal glow. Somehow, because Minho becomes aware with the lengthening silence that this is an important moment, he doesn’t look sleepy anymore, eyes glimmering as he waits expectantly for Jisung to speak. 

_Oh,_ Jisung thinks. Earlier, he was wrong. Minho’s eyes reflect all their memories, but now they also _do_ reflect the stars, twinkling exquisitely in the almost-dark. 

Now that they’re both here, there’s no use in dragging it out any longer, so Jisung takes the leap of faith and shoots for the stars: 

“Minho. I like you.” 

Once he breathes the first sentence, the rest of his confession comes tumbling out after. “Actually, I think I’m in love with you,” he admits. Minho hasn’t moved from his spot, but his eyes are still shining under the starry night sky, so Jisung keeps going. “I’ve been in love with you so long that I don’t even know when I fell. It just kind of happened. I doubt that I could have stopped it from happening, and I didn’t want to either,” he says, laughing quietly at the thought.

“I know we don’t talk that much anymore, and that we kind of drifted away once you left for college, but I still think about you so much,” he continues. “I still think back on our old memories, and whenever I see the tree house or whenever I pass by the community pool or our old high school and junior high and elementary school I can’t help but think of you.”

“I really, really, really like you,” he repeats, and then suddenly he feels something wet trickle down his cheek. “Aw, shoot,” he says, weakly, and wipes the tear off. “I didn’t mean to get so, so… sentimental.” He brings his face to his shirtsleeve again, drying the salty liquid that’s rapidly pooling in his eyes again.

“Anyway, that’s all I have to say. I just thought you should know,” Jisung finishes, voice shaky. Finally, he looks away, staring with a bated breath numbly at the fringes of the blanket that’s laid warmly over their legs.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Jisung,” Minho speaks. 

“Jisung.” It’s louder this time. Jisung looks back up at Minho, and he’s smiling. He’s _smiling._ A sliver of his teeth poke through, and then his smile gets even wider until he’s beaming like a crescent moon. Jisung crumbles, and an uncontrollable smile makes his way up his face, mirroring Minho’s. The blossoms in his heart erupt into bubbly petals that course through him, trembling with no other thought but _yesyesyesyes._

“I can’t believe we both liked each other for so long and didn’t say anything about it. Did you know that the only reason I didn’t dare to step inside this tree house in the past three years was because I felt like I would be doing something wrong if you weren’t there with me too?” 

Jisung laughs, a funny little noise tinged with disbelief. “That’s funny, that’s the same reason _I_ haven’t entered here for so long,” he croaks out. 

“I can’t really match your whole spiel just now, though,” Minho says. “But I hope you know that I really, really, really like you too.”

“ _Really,_ ” Minho adds for emphasis, the word leaving his mouth with earnest emotion. “And—”

Minho leans forward, resting one hand on Jisung’s shoulder and bringing his other hand up to ever-so-gently cup his cheek, thumb grazing the edge of Jisung’s mouth. There’s barely any pressure from it, but Jisung feels the blood rushing to his face, and he quirks a wry smile at Minho, whose eyes glint knowingly back.

“Yeah?” Jisung says, but he thinks he understands now. They’ve known each other for so long, grew up with each other, after all. 

“I mean, I didn’t spell it out for you just now, but I love you too,” He says the words tenderly, reverently, like _Jisung_ is the moon that shines against his face. Minho exhales, his face now inches away from Jisung’s, and despite the darkness Jisung feels like the moon is working in his favor to help illuminate every one of Minho’s features, from his ruffled hair to the unwavering intensity laid bare in his eyes.

So Jisung knows, and he lets his eyes flutter shut, feeling the warmth enveloping him as Minho leans closer and closer. Finally, like he’s sealing _their_ secret, Minho closes the distance.

Jisung feels just the lightest touch of Minho’s lips grazing against his. It only lasts a brief second, but the fiery petals coursing through his bloodstream ignite, ignite, ignite. 

Then Minho wraps his arms around him and draws him up into his lap. The crickets and wind fade into the distance, leaving Jisung with his heart pounding in his ears, except now he brings a palm up against Minho’s chest and feels Minho’s heart drumming electrifyingly to the beat of his own. Minho leans forward until his soft, soft lips are parting sweetly against Jisung’s. Jisung responds eagerly, so, so pliant, this time moving with more sureness and insentince, more _demand_ , making up for all the time they’ve lost, a flower spreading out its petals to the beckoning sun. Minho cradles his cheek and moves his other hand to rest against Jisung’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer and closer, and already all Jisung can think about is Minho. His touch burns through the cotton fabric into his skin, hot and fiery, and it makes Jisung melt into him and clutch Minho’s shirt as their mouths slip against each other and he tastes the sugary remnants of strawberry ice cream and wants to taste more. 

He feels Minho’s lips quirk up almost imperceptibly and Jisung leans back just the slightest and sees, under the moonbeams, that Minho’s mouth is slick and a bit swollen but he’s smiling. Just a small smile, a bit shy but mostly so genuine and carefree and filled with bliss that Jisung melts even more, and grins back with pure happiness. 

“I’m so glad I came back this summer,” Minho mumbles, grip tightening around Jisung’s waist before leveling Jisung with such a starstruck look that Jisung wants to self-consciously bury his head into Minho’s chest so he can’t see the blush that’s creeping up his cheeks. 

Though, the summer’s barely started. The night’s barely started too.

Jisung brings Minho back in for another kiss, and their teeth almost clack because now they’re both trying too hard not to smile. Then Minho says Jisung’s name so preciously and it rings in his head in that honeyed voice and it’s back to lips on lips and just Minho molding to him and him molding to Minho and he never wants it to end, wants to stay in their tree house forever. 

Eventually they pull apart though. “I would say keep going but we do have to go to sleep at some point,” Minho says, giggling when a scandalized Jisung flushes a deep red. “Not like _that_ ,” Minho adds, huffing. “Yet.” 

“I know,” Jisung laughs, “I know.” 

But—because they can—they inevitably kiss one more time and Jisung feels like he’ll never get used to this feeling of floating in soft flower petals and having his senses attuned to nothing but Minho. Attuned to everything about Minho. Minho, who will always be his best friend and now a little more. 

“Okay, sleep, there’s always tomorrow.” The idea of _tomorrow_ rings magically in Jisung’s head, so he lets Minho reprimand him, though both of them are just as reluctant as the other. 

“Pinky promise?” Jisung asks cheekily. 

Minho regards him with fond bemusement, but he brings his pinky up to Jisung’s anyway, intertwining them together. “Pinky promise.”

Finally, Minho resolutely grabs his pillow from the edge of the tree house and plops his head into it, pulling his blanket over him and drawing the covers up to his chin.

This time, Jisung unabashedly stares down at him, tracing over Minho’s flushed cheeks and dazed, starlit eyes in the faint light until Minho easily caves and his mouth and eyes crinkle up all at once and he pulls Jisung down under the blanket against him. So Jisung curls up against Minho and clings to Minho’s arm and listens to their calming, steady heartbeats until he drifts off into a cozy slumber.

As summer progresses, the tree house once again becomes Minho and Jisung’s second home—their secret you and me house.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tree House
> 
> A tree house, a free house,  
> A secret you and me house,  
> A high up in the leafy branches  
> Cozy as can be house.
> 
> A street house, a neat house,  
> Be sure and wipe your feet house  
> Is not my kind of house at all--  
> Let's go live in a tree house.  
>   
> -Shel Silverstein
> 
> Okay, if you made it here thank you so much for reading!! I got this idea in my head after going through old poems my elementary school teachers had us read, and I felt really inspired by Shel Silverstein's Tree House poem (title of the fic was taken from a line from the poem, too). 
> 
> also, I always imagined their tree house would look like [this](https://hips.hearstapps.com/hmg-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/images/intro-1548263380.jpg). Just picture the tree being against the fence and they each have a ladder from their own side of the fence to the platform, and the tree canopy is a bit lower so it functions kind of like a roof.
> 
> Anyway, I'm super excited to have finished writing this, so tell me what you think!!!! And have a great day :^))))


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